Changed Body
by Enya
Summary: A serious accident changes Piccolo's life when it leaves him paralyzed from the shoulders down. How will he cope with the knowledge that he'll never walk or use his hands again? How will Gohan cope with taking care of him?
1. The Crash

paralyzed

A/N: Shounen Ai warning. That means a male/male pairing, and don't flame me over it. I plan on keeping this story clean, but if any citrus scenes come up, they'll be done tastefully. I'll leave a note in the chapter if and where it happens. I also want to note that I may take a while to finish each chapter because of school and stuff. I don't have a lot of time online(it took me awhile just to get this up :P), so please be patient with me ^_^

Changed Body  
Episode 1: The Crash

"Ah, crap. The engine is stalling again!" Gohan complained over the blaring stereo as the engine in the hovercar sputtered. He pulled off the highway, turned on the emergency lights and climbed out to pop the hood. Piccolo stayed where he was, head bowed and arms folded, exhausted from a long day of training. 

Now that he and Gohan were living together, they decided to move to the city. He didn't like the idea of being in a place full of people, but he was willing to for Gohan. Especially since their relationship had taken an…interesting…turn.

His thoughts were interrupted when his student jumped aside, just in time to avoid being crushed by an out-of-control car that came out of nowhere and slammed into the vehicle he was sitting in. The impact shoved the small hovercar back several feet, jarring the Namekseijin and shattering the windshield.  
  
Piccolo felt the seat-belt break from the force of his large body being swung forward and back. His head hit the crushed dashboard, doing more damage to it than it did to him. Effectively startled, he stared at his lap in attempt to figure out what the heck just happened.  
  
"Piccolo!! Are you OK!?" Gohan screamed over the still-blaring stereo while the driver of the other car started screaming a haze of cuss words.

Dazed, shaking all over, Piccolo lifted his head to find the hovercar was crushed like a tin can. Safety padding lay shredded, seats were broken and the engine had finally decided to start. "Yeah…I think so…" Then he looked up and saw the jack-knifed semi that sent the other car spinning out of control. It was sliding along the road so fast sparks were flying off the cab, and it was headed straight for the two crippled cars. "Oh sh-"  
  
Screeching metal and an explosion. That was the sound Piccolo heard during the impact, and it hurt his sensitive ears. He felt his body being jerked into wild contortions, pain overpowering every conscious thought, and the world spun wildly. Lights flashed as they passed by. The ground rushed by in a blur of tar black and grass green. Every impact jarred him further, tossing him around inside the broken vehicle like a ragdoll, until all was stillness. His body tingled and went numb, leaving him stuck beneath the hot metal with his scraped cheek pressed hard against pavement. His vision blurred on images of twisted metal, fire and leaking gasoline. 

The other car, the one that had made the first impact, was gone. All that remained was the seat and the charred body of the driver. The driver of the semi that had jack-knifed, who was suffering a badly broken arm and a mild concussion, immediately called for help over his radio system. Then he used his good arm to climb free of the cab and rush to Gohan's side.

"Sir? Are you all right!?"

The young dark-haired man was in a panic when he saw his hovercar lying in a twisted heap in the ravine that ran the length of the highway. "He's still in the car! Piccolo!!"

"I've radioed for help…" Was all the driver had time to say before Gohan had run to the edge of the ravine.

Piccolo was still in a complete daze and his head was swimming. He no longer knew where he was, having lost all sense of direction after being spun so wildly. All he knew was his body was numb, his head ached and the angle his neck was twisted made it impossible for him to breathe. He could hear the sound of water trickling on cloth somewhere, his numbed body not letting him realize it was his bladder emptying itself.

"Piccolo!!! Hang on, Piccolo! Help is on the way!" Gohan's voice spoke from far off across a distant tunnel, followed by the sound of shoes scraping dirt and gravel. Feet plodded down heavily behind the twisted car and the metal groaned as the young man started to move it. The movement quickly stopped when it proved too dangerous. "Piccolo!?" Gohan dropped to his knees beside the crumpled car, able to see his lover's face and the angle in which his neck and body were twisted. He watched the green man's glazed eyes flutter vacantly. "Piccolo, can you hear me? Don't move, whatever you do, don't try to move."

Piccolo couldn't breathe to reply, even when he tried, and panic began to give way to stupor. All faded into darkness as his eyes fluttered shut and went still.  
  
"Piccolo!!!" Gohan screamed. He scooted under the crumpled heap of the car when he felt his lover's ki flicker and laid a hand across the back of his head, in a panic because it was too dangerous to attempt CPR. "Piccolo, you can't give up! Try to breathe! TRY!!! Please!!!"

He wanted to breathe, to live. But his body did not. It was too wounded and in too much pain to continue. Too broken to function.

"Come on…" Gohan was nearly in tears as two minutes became five, and five became ten. He could tell Piccolo had stopped breathing and knew his heart had probably stopped. "Hang in there, Piccolo…" The tears began, "You have to hang on…"

A red light flashed at the end of the overpass, and with the flash came a flicker of hope…

  
Piccolo heard the distant sound of sirens, but they'd never make it in time to save him; his brain had been deprived of oxygen for too long.   
  
That was the last thought he had before feeling incredible suction against the top of his head, and vivid flashes of his past began to erupt against the backs of his closed eyelids like dreams. No, more than dreams. He was there again in those moments. Seeing Gohan first learning to fight, growing and becoming stronger than he ever imagined. He saw him defeating the most powerful enemies they ever came across. He felt the softness of their nearly-forgotten first kiss and the intense sensations of physical love. Then all faded to a smoky gray mist that swirled intermittently and condensed in on itself.

The next thing Piccolo knew, he was rising through a narrow gray tube that glowed dully at the other end. It felt like sitting on a roller-coaster being cranked up a big hill, only there were no tracks and the ride was smoother. The anxiety of the unknown quickly faded from his memory, replaced by a calm sense of peace. Nothing mattered anymore.

__

  
Flashing lights and sirens signaled the approaching fire engines, ambulances and police. Gohan tried to keep a cool head while the truck driver signaled that someone was still in the car. He had yet to realize a wound on his head was bleeding profusely onto his shirt and staining the white material a brilliant red.   
  
"Down there!"  
  
The first ambulance came to a screeching halt next to the ravine where the hovercar had tumbled after the impact. A helicopter was called while several paramedics and firemen climbed down into the ravine. One of them grabbed Gohan and pulled him away from the wreck while a fireman used the Jaws Of Life to cut the mangled wreck away from Piccolo's broken form.

From that moment on, everything was cacophony and chaos.

"Don't move him! I think his neck may be broken!" Gohan cried.

"Sit down now, son. Let them handle it." Said the truck driver.

"I need a neck brace and a backboard!" Called a female voice.

One of the paramedics touched Piccolo's twisted neck, "I can't find a pulse!"

"No choice then. Move him with EXTREME CARE! Get that neck brace on him!" Called the male paramedic.

The woman reached up to catch a neck brace that was tossed down. She wrapped it carefully around Piccolo's neck to immobilize it while two more paramedics slid down the hill with a backboard. As soon as the wreckage was cut away, they rolled him over onto it and began aggressive CPR.

Gohan got a good look at Piccolo when they rolled him over. The front of his gi was all wet and clinging to his skin, his eyes were closed and his lips parted, tainted only by a single streak of blood where his fangs had cut the inside of his lip during the impact. He looked strangely peaceful, which struck Gohan as odd because he had thought Piccolo would be in pain.

If only he had known what his beloved mentor was going through right then…

  
Wham! Piccolo was plunged through the dull glow and into a twisting watery blue vortex. Each time he zoomed around a curve, the color would change. Green became blue, blue became purple, and purple became red. Faster and faster, the turns kept coming more rapidly until he was slammed through another wall of dull light.  
  
He was ejected over a bizarre landscape of odd colors and illogical objects. Crystalline islands rose above a fuchsia sea, reaching towards a rainbow sky filled with dancing multicolored spheres and cubes. One of the spheres engulfed him, and he found himself passing over an even more surreal landscape where everything shone in rainbow colors. The only break between "ground" and "sky" was the horizon, a blackness beyond existence. 

When he passed through this blackness, all movement seemed to stop completely. There was nothing; no sound, no light, no sensation, and no sense of self. The person he once was no longer existed, as it had become an experience without the experience-er…

__

  
"One, two, three! Breathe!" The female paramedic performed chest compressions while one of the men squeezed an Ambu bag. A third man was busy hooking up monitors and an IV line. Equipment was being passed, speech chattered constantly and various people began to surround the fallen Namekseijin.

One of the men used his thumb to pull one of Piccolo's eyelids up and shined a light onto his eyeball. He did the same with the other, then to both. "Pupils are fixed and dilated, no response to light." 

"I'm getting good breath-sounds bilaterally, no pulse yet. He's hypoxic…intubating now." The paramedic placed a laryngoscope into Piccolo's mouth to depress his tongue and open his throat until she could see his vocal cords. Then she used her teeth to rip open a packet, extracted a clear plastic tube and pushed it down his throat, between the relaxed vocal cords. Putting the laryngoscope aside, she attached a different Ambu bag, "Hyperventilate him and continue CPR!"

"Where is that helicopter?"

"ETA about ten minutes!"  
  
Gohan gave up and sobbed quietly against his hands, unable to summon the strength to fly as one paramedic helped him up the side of the ravine, "Piccolo…don't die. I need you, don't die! Don't die, Piccolo!" He kept shouting until he was pushed to sit, had a bandage wrapped around his head to slow the bleeding and received a mild sedative to calm him down.

  
Just when Piccolo thought he had finished his journey, he realized a single line of light was waiting in the distance, and he was quickly slammed through another twisting vortex ending with wispy white tendrils made of pure light.

Now he was gliding through a narrow corridor with multicolored walls made of odd shapes. It felt like standing still while the walls rushed soundlessly by, missing him by millimeters and giving off no wind. His speed increased as another dull glow appeared in the distance, stretching up and down into forever. 

Beyond the light was a corridor even more illogical than the one before; controlled chaos in fast forward. It was a thin, pockmarked rainbow spiral moving against the blackness. It wound twice, plunged him into one of the many openings on its surface and sent him through another identical spiral. The spiral undulated twice more before he entered another tunnel that led into blackness.

The blackness didn't last long. He was thrust into a horizontal corridor with a cloudy red floor and a bright blue-green ceiling. Occasional streaks of other colors would shoot by and be forgotten, only to shoot by again.

__

  
Chop-chop noises could be heard as the helicopter approached. A spotlight shined down on the swarm of people surrounding Piccolo's unmoving form. The wind began to pick up, noise grew unbearable and the paramedics started shouting louder to hear each other over the mess.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, the helicopter managed to land.

"Report!" Someone screamed. Someone else shouted the garbled reply.

It all seemed like slow motion to Gohan, who was now holding a bandage and an ice pack over his wounded head. He watched helplessly as even more people surrounded Piccolo, and he was soon in the helicopter, out of sight.

  
Whoosh! The horizon became a distant feature amidst a fiery sky and a sea of evenly-spaced reflective spheres. Each sphere bore many reflections within reflections of the landscape, like two mirrors across from each other. Occasional flashes of lightning jumped across Piccolo's path or between the odd sea and sky, but he still didn't feel any fear. In fact, he had the urge to laugh with glee! This was fun!  
  
Lightning flashed in his path to thrust him towards a seemingly featureless wall. As he got closer, he realized there were endless patterns interwoven within the single color. They bled outwards like cracks or veins that changed hues as he approached. The closer he got, the more intricate, colorful and beautiful the patterns became. Streaks became swirls, or swirls became streaks that changed color and folded in on themselves. Color here, color there, color flowing everywhere!

__

  
The ambulance arrived at the hospital in record time, though the helicopter had long since landed and taken off. Piccolo had not regained a pulse the whole time they transported him; he had been clinically dead for over an hour by then.

Gohan was taken into the hall and behind a curtain across from the trauma room where Piccolo was still being resuscitated. He could do nothing but watch in silence, his stomach sinking down into his toes and twisting in against itself.

Metal cups were attached to his lover's strong green pectorals, leading to a monitor that repeatedly drew a straight line across the screen. Strong hands pressed down on his breastbone while another pair squeezed an Ambu bag to fill his lungs with air.

Through everything, Piccolo's eyes remained closed and did not offer the slightest twitch in response to the rough treatment being administered.

"I need an Epi, stat!" Called one of the ER doctors. He turned quickly towards a machine with two black paddles and grasped the devices by the handles. Then he placed one on Piccolo's left pectoral and the other a bit lower, forming an L shape. "Charge to two hundred! Clear!"

Everyone lifted their hands away from Piccolo's green form, and his entire body jerked as the shock was delivered to his heart. The monitor above his bed jumped wildly before showing an uncoordinated wavy line. They waited for a moment before resuming CPR.  
  
"He's fibrillating. At least that's _something._" Someone commented from off to the side.

Another doctor intervened with a long needle, sticking it through the Namekseijin's chest and into his heart. "Charge to two-fifty! Clear!" The paddles were placed again, everyone took their hands away and another shock was delivered. The doctor touched the side of Piccolo's neck and looked up at the monitor, "No pulse! Continue CPR!"

  
Piccolo had lost all sense of direction when his forward motion began to decrease. He finally reached the end of his colorful journey after a long period of non-existent time, and another splotch of blackness awaited him. Rather than being slammed into the dark, he was aware of gently drifting through, and found himself floating towards an even more bizarre place.

It was a spherical cavern, or perhaps even a room. The walls were constantly interweaving lines of pale light in various earth-tones, much more mute from the barrage of rainbows that were flying by before. Every second that passed made the moving lines shift slightly, and he spent several moments just watching them dance as his forward motion came to a gradual stop.   
  
At the other end of the odd room, there was an aperture with white tendrils of light waving gently about in a welcoming manner. Beads of light would flow through the walls and into those tendrils, feeding them their beautiful glow.

__

  
"Get me another Epi!" Called the trauma doctor in charge. He held out his hand while a clean syringe was slapped against his palm and made another injection, "C'mon… OK, resuming CPR," The heels of his hands returned to Piccolo's chest and pressed down to pump his heart. "Charge to three-hundred!"

"Charging!"

The doctor grabbed the paddles and positioned them on Piccolo's chest, "Clear!"

ZAP!!!  
  
  
"Piccoloooooo," A familiar voice rang out dreamily, echoing on itself several times.  
  
Piccolo looked straight ahead to see Goku in the form of a translucent naked figure that appeared to be little more than shimmering mist in the shape of a body. He was walking towards the aperture with an arm outstretched, beckoning, a smile on his face.

"Piccolooooo…" His musical voice called again as he seemed to vanish, "Seeeeeee yaaaaa…"  
  
As Goku disappeared, a Namekseijin materialized. He was young, probably not much older than Nail had been, and he seemed strangely familiar. Someone whose name was just beyond the realm of recollection. The Namekseijin figure didn't say much when he began walking towards the aperture. In fact, all he did was look over his shoulder with a radiant smile to say one musical word.

"Kataaaaaaaaat…"  
  
As soon as the Namekseijin disappeared, the white tendrils of light blew inwards like an opening gate, and Piccolo drifted through. The place he found himself in was similar to the previous, though the colors were even more mute than before. Shimmers of light still ran along the walls and converged in an unseen location. 

He was moving forward along with the shimmers, towards a fantastic corridor made completely of the same wavering tendrils he just passed through. They seemed to be waving him onward towards an even taller aperture with brighter wavering ropes of light.

__

  
"Charge to three-fifty!" The doctor ordered, then placed the paddles accordingly, "Clear!"

Again, just as before, Piccolo's limp body jerked when it received the shock. One of the technicians touched his neck to search for a pulse. "No pulse. Should we call it?" She looked up at the doctor's determined expression and placed her hand back on the Ambu bag.

"Not yet. Charge again." The doctor placed the paddles back into place. "Clear!"

Piccolo's flaccid body jumped as the shock was delivered. The doctor looked up at the monitor and placed two fingers on the Namekseijin's neck to seek out a pulse.

  
Piccolo had just drifted through the massive aperture and into a blindingly bright white room, which was made entirely of interwoven lines in constant motion, when one of the wavering tendrils suddenly floated forward to bar him from continuing. He still felt the forward pull while the tendril resisted. There was a flash of light as two more filmy streaks of light barred his path. He felt a tingle, looked down to see a misty outline of his own arms and legs, and became suddenly aware of his own existence.

All at once, he was sucked backwards through a vortex of shifting colors ending in a dull grayish light. He was slammed into the light to find himself floating above a decrepit green body, lying on a table with people working all around, while Gohan watched from across the hall. Distorted voices reached his ears to mix with the sounds of beeps, clicks and hisses.

He was spun face-up and slapped back into his body. As if he had just dove into water, he felt himself sink away from the bright lights and people surrounding him until consciousness was just a point of light in the distance.

  
The line on the monitor wavered unsteadily before showing a spike. The resounding beep was followed by another, and another, and another. Hearing the monitor beeping again was like hearing the first cries of a newborn child, and the doctors who were working so intently to bring Piccolo back cheered.

"Normal sinus rhythm!" Called the technician working the Ambu bag.

"All righty then. We've got him back, but he's not out of the woods. As soon as he's stable enough, I want chest and abdominal X-rays and a head CT to rule out the severity of his injuries. Then I want a CBC, a Chem7 and a blood gas. Get to it," The doctor pulled his gloves off and finished writing on his chart before charging down the hall to handle another trauma.  
  
"You heard the man!" Chirped one of the nurses as she prepared the proper equipment for transport. 

Gohan grimaced a little as the nurse finished stitching up the nasty wound on the side of his head. It wasn't that the numbness was wearing off, but the fact that the rest of his head still ached. Another problem that seemed to be killing him more was that nobody around was giving him any news on Piccolo after they had gotten his heart beating again.

The worst the wait had done was allow him to go through the accident in his mind.   
  
Just before the crash, they had been discussing their relationship, and how close at had gotten. He was so upset that his mother had refused to accept his loving Piccolo, especially after they had been caught in bed together. His own mother had told him to choose his family or Piccolo.

He'd chosen Piccolo…

"OK, you're all done there. The doctor is going to write up a prescription for you and then you can go. You should consider yourself lucky, young man. Getting out of that car saved your life." The nurse's words cut into Gohan's thoughts.

"Gee, thanks." Muttered the man as he settled back in his seat. He waited for the nurse to leave before reaching up to touch the dressing she had put over the stitches. 

After five minutes of an eternity crawled by, the door opened and an older man wearing a white lab coat with a stethoscope slung over the back of his neck stepped in. He paused a moment to check his clipboard before writing something down and looking to Gohan, "Your chart says you're well enough to go home now, but I recommend bed rest for a few days so you can heal up."  
  
Gohan lifted his head to peer at the doctor with slightly double vision, "Dr. Toriyama, how's Piccolo? Nobody is telling me anything around here! Is he going to make it?"

The doctor sighed and pulled up a stool to sit. His body language was enough to tell it was bad, as did his serious tone, "Your friend's seat belt broke… he appeared to have been thrown around inside the car like a ragdoll. Though he suffered a minor concussion, the X-rays show a severe C-5 fracture that crushed his spinal cord."

Gohan blinked, "He's…?"

"…never going to walk or have full use of his arms again." The news dropped like a bomb, "He's in surgery now, having the bone fragments removed and replaced, but we won't know the extent of his sensory loss until he regains consciousness. We have him on a ventilator because of some swelling, but he'll be able to breathe on his own once that goes away."

"Can…I see him when he comes out?"

"Yes, but then I want you to go home and _rest_." Dr. Toriyama noted sharply.

--Two hours later--  
  
Who was that stranger lying there with the halo traction device holding his neck and torso still? Who was the person lying unconscious with tubes in his mouth, arms and between his legs? Who was the creature that seemed perpetually melded to monitors by wires attached to cups on his chest or cuffs on his fingers? Where was the cool, calculated man that had been talking to him earlier?

Seeing Piccolo lying there like that was utterly wrong. As wrong as it would be to draw a circle and call it a square.

Tears welled in Gohan's eyes as he approached the bed and picked up one of the lifeless green hands. It was cool as always, though the usually flawless skin was lined with cleaned scrapes and bruises. When he realized he was holding a hand that might never feel again, he burst into tears.

"Oh Piccolo…I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have taken the car out when it was acting up…" He sobbed softly, "I'm sorry…" His head rose as his hopes of a response came up. They were dashed when he was met with the motionless closed lids showing beneath naturally frowning brow ridges. "…Piccolo? Can you even hear me?"

No response but the beeping monitors and the hissing ventilator. Each time it hissed, Piccolo's chest would rise and fall. It pained Gohan to know that his friend, mentor and lover depended on that machine to live. The pain worsened when he tried to picture him in a wheelchair…because he couldn't.

With his eyes, he followed the ribbed tubes from the machine where they entered the Namekseijin's mouth, held in place by clean strips of cloth tape against his upper lip and cheek. The white tape stood out against his dark green skin.  
  
"OK…" Whispered Gohan. He brought the fragile hand up to his lips and gently kissed it, "Take your time…then come back to me, Piccolo." He dared to lean up and touch his lips to the Namekseijin's green cheek. It, like his hand, was cool to the touch and smooth like leather. "_Aishiteru, Pikorro-kun._"

"I'm sorry." Dr. Toriyama interrupted gently by poking his head through the door, "But you have to leave now so we can run some more tests. I'll call you if there's any change. Go home and get some rest. Make sure to keep the area around those stitches clean too."

"I will." With that, he left the hospital and called a cab to go home.

Piccolo rose like a soap bubble towards the distant light known as consciousness. The first thing he heard was the sound of beeping monitors and the hiss of a nearby machine. He was also aware of a tube in his mouth that stretched down his throat and forced him to breathe. Though he couldn't seem to move his body, he could move his eyes from side to side.   
  
He saw silver bars extending down either side of his face, attached to something wrapped around his upper body. The topmost parts were attached to a metal halo that prevented movement from the neck up. He also saw various IV lines entering his muscular green-and-pink arms, filled with various liquids to keep him alive. Another tube ran out from under the sheet to a bag hanging off the bedrail. Thick ribbed tubes, one aqua and the other clear, extended from a machine like two coiling snakes that joined back into one and entered his mouth.  
  
Last he remembered, he was drifting into a place filled with light…

No, it was too painful to stay conscious now. His eyes fluttered shut and he drifted back into the soundless void, still unaware that his life had been changed forever.


	2. Shattered

paralyzed2

A/N: Shounen Ai warning. (I'm going to post this warning every chapter, so get used to it ~_^) 

Changed Body  
Episode 2: Shattered

Watery obsidian eyes peeled themselves open and focused on the porous ceiling overhead. A bright light suddenly crept into the edge of his vision, stabbing his retina with its intensity. His gaze drifted towards the light, following it as it crossed over his face and moved to the other side. Then, growing tired, he allowed his eyelids to lower and shroud his eyes from view once again.

Dr. Toriyama turned off his penlight and smiled as he wrote the results of the test down on his chart. "Good, the sedative seems to be waning. How about we get that annoying tube out of your mouth so you can talk to us? You're certainly ready for it."

Piccolo's eyes drifted open and looked at him with a sharp, sleepy look. He _hated_ being prodded, poked and touched so much, especially since he never really knew what was going on. But the idea of getting the tubes out of his throat did strike him as appealing.

"You won't be able to talk right away, but you will after the irritation goes away." The doctor approached the ventilator and turned it off, then disconnected the tubes from the one in the Namekseijin's mouth. He opened a smaller tube connected to the main one and said, "OK, when I count to three, I want you to take a deep breath and breathe out as hard as you can. Ready?" Grasping the tube, he began, "One, two…three!"

Following the instructions, Piccolo gasped as deep a breath he could manage and exhaled as forcefully as he would to cough. He felt the hard plastic being yanked through the parched, sensitive linings in his throat and coughed violently, his entire airway burning. He couldn't swallow right away, let alone attempt to speak. The first attempt he made sent him into another coughing fit, as if his own vocal cords had rebelled against him. The coughing itself was painful and weak, more like a gag than a cough because his abdominal muscles could no longer move to add force.

All the Namekseijin could manage was a cold glare when the doctor remained seated at his bedside, then he whispered painfully, "What does it take to get some peace and quiet around here?!" Even whispering made him cough, and he hated it!

"I know you want to be left alone, and I'll leave in just a minute. But first we need to do a really important test." Dr. Toriyama's coat rustled gently against his trousers as he got to his feet and took a special device from his pocket. It looked like a piece of cardboard with two pins sticking out the bottom. "I'm going to poke you with this. Blink your eyes twice for me when you feel two pokes, all right? Don't try to talk."

Annoyed, Piccolo blinked his eyelids twice to signal OK, wanting nothing more than to crush that human's skull in with his bare hands.

"Here we go." Dr. Toriyama started by poking Piccolo gently above the fleshy foreskin-like sheath where the catheter entered, applying enough pressure to dent the leathery skin, and watched Piccolo's eyes carefully for a response that didn't come. The gentle pinpricks moved over a set of ribbed pink abdominal muscles and up towards a set of heaving pectorals.

Piccolo waited in silence while the test went on, his sensitive ears hearing each rustle of the doctor's coat mixed with sounds of the monitor and noises from outside the room. For the longest time he felt vague pressure, like a limb that had fallen asleep and gone numb, but there was no itchy tingle to signify it was returning to life.

It was an eternity before he felt the two distinct points touch his skin just below the collarbones. He blinked twice rapidly, then again to make sure the doctor saw him. His eyes remained closed after that, allowing him to take comfort in the darkness.  
  
"OK…" Dr. Toriyama's coat rustling moved to the foot of the bed, "All right. I want you to try and push against my hand with your foot."

__

What now? Piccolo waited for the doctor to pick his leg up so he could move it around and get this test over with. He waited to perform an action that was so easy to do every day for as long as he lived. So simple to just move his leg and stand up. So simple to bend his knee to make himself more comfortable. So simple to use his foot as a weapon to kick away annoying enemies.

Finally, tired of waiting, he opened his eyes and parted his lips in preparation to complain when he was met with something muscular, ridged and green with red strips outlining patches of pink. The limb was being grasped under the knee by one hand while another palm pressed against the sole of his foot. His leg was elevated already. 

__

Is that my leg?

"Try to push against my hand, Piccolo." Dr. Toriyama instructed gently, his voice warm and encouraging to hide his dismay at the way this was going to turn out.

The Namekseijin watched helplessly as his lifeless limb was pushed gently back and forth despite his every effort to do as he was told. He tried until sweat gathered on his brow and the frustration had coiled so tightly he feared he would spring off the bed.  
  
_Move, dammit!_  
  
But the leg would not move.  
  
"OK…" The dark-haired doctor, growing more dismayed, moved towards the head of the bed and carefully laid Piccolo's palm across his own while his other hand grasped the pen. "Try to squeeze my hand."  
  
Piccolo's gaze shifted to the hand that suddenly seemed foreign, unable to feel the cool rubber glove against his palm. That hand had the power to rip the doctor's throat right out. It had the power to fire deadly beams of energy. It was strong enough to crush the weak with a single blow, and he couldn't move it. Not even a twitch.

"OK…" Seemed to be the only word in the doctor's vocabulary as he grasped onto the red-ringed wrist and held on gently, "Try bending your arm for me."

Piccolo sighed in annoyance, but he was able to flex his bicep and bend his arm a little. Straightening it back out again was a different story, however, as the task proved beyond impossible. The coil of frustration between his eyes began to wind itself another notch tighter.

He didn't ask what it meant or why, nor did he want to know. All he wanted was to be alone with the hot lump that was building just above his Adam's apple and crawling through the capillaries in his face like a slow heat. He wanted to be alone so badly his heart nearly burst right there in front of the doctor.  
  
Dr. Toriyama wordlessly lowered his head and wrote something on his chart before walking out to face Gohan. Piccolo waited in silent tension for the door to shut before closing his eyes and allowing the silent tears he'd been holding back to slide down the sides of his face.

For the first time in his life, Piccolo dissolved into tears.

Magazines were rustling, their disturbed pages shifting beneath not-so-gentle fingers. Gohan's spiked-up bangs poked over the top of the last interesting magazine as he vigorously read through an interesting article about Albert Einstein. He was so intent on what he was reading that he failed to notice the person coming up from behind.

"Gohan?"  
  
"Gack!" The magazine and chair went flying, and Gohan found himself lying at Dr. Toriyama's feet while other people in the waiting room gave him odd stares. "Oh, phew! You scared me, doc." He commented sheepishly, his face burning with embarrassment as he climbed to his feet.

"Ah, heh…sorry. I seem to have that effect on people." Dr. Toriyama chuckled, then became serious and began by sitting down, "Well, it seems Piccolo will retain enough control of his biceps to bend his arms, but everything from the shoulders down is completely numb. That means the injury is complete." He sighed, "We're looking at several months of rehabilitation and adjustment…and I have a feeling he won't be very pleasant to work with. He won't be able to power a manual chair, which means that we have to wait and see how he rehabilitates so we can get him a proper power chair…"  
  
Deflating, Gohan ran a hand through his hair and hung his head, "He's going to be hell…he's used to doing everything on his own without having to depend on anybody. Now that's turned completely upside down on him… It's not fair!" He bit his lip, "It should be me in there…"

"Hey, don't talk like that, Gohan. These kinds of things can happen to anyone in the blink of an eye. Whether it be a stroke, an accident or another illness."

The man remained silent because it was true. His father had been the strongest man in the universe, yet he had been crippled with the heart virus. It was sickening to see him reduced to a convulsing mass of flesh and blood writhing in pain. And he had gotten better, only to die in the fight with Cell.

"Listen, Gohan…going in there upset will only make Piccolo more upset. People who sustain injuries like this are prone to serious depression, some so bad they take their own lives if they have the capabilities." Toriyama looked down at his pager when it beeped and adjusted his glasses to check the number, "I need to go. Remember what I told you, and let him know he can be open about what he feels whenever he wants."

Dismissing the doctor with a wave of his hand, Gohan turned the corner and entered the room where Piccolo was lying helplessly, his eyes shut and his expression stoic. It was good to see his face without all the tape and tubes masking its angular magnificence. 

The curtains were open, allowing light to brighten the room and illuminate the old water-stains on the pockmarked white ceiling. Outside, brightly-colored flowers trembled in the wind while various butterflies and ladybugs crawled about on the leaves.

Ignoring the scenery, Gohan approached the bed and immediately noticed the dry tear stains on his mentor's cheeks. Unsure of what reaction would come, and unsure of Piccolo's state of mind at the moment, he dared to speak softly, "Piccolo? Are you asleep?"

Piccolo's eyelids drifted open to signify no, but didn't turn to face the handsome dark-haired man. Instead, they remained fixed on the dirty ceiling and offered zero clues of the storm that raged behind them. A storm that flashed with angry tears and thundered the question 'why?'.

Gohan reached down and placed a hand on one of his green cheeks, "Piccolo…please don't shut me out now. We'll get through this somehow…"  
  
It was agony to speak, agony to breathe and agony to swallow, but Piccolo knew he had to if he wanted to set the other man straight. His cracked lips parted slowly and formed voiceless words, "Easy for you to say. You're not the one lying here." He said it with true sadness and anger, his eyes seeming to burn with the flame that once preceded an outburst of rage. "You don't understand…"

"You're right, I don't." Gohan spoke smoothly and calmly while Piccolo fumed, "But that doesn't mean I'm suffering any less, Piccolo." He rubbed the back of Piccolo's lifeless hand, momentarily fixated by the feeling of his cool skin, "I love you…that isn't going to change."

Piccolo bit his lip as Gohan's words touched the secret soft part of his heart. At the same time, it also brought him even more pain. Pain because he could no longer be the same lover he had been to Gohan before. Pain because he was a burden that was going to get in the way. Pain because he was weak.

Gohan lifted one hand from Piccolo's and brushed his knuckles over the angular curve of his green cheekbone, able to see the pain wracking his heart. He only closed his eyes, bent down and pressed his lips to the cool trembling ones, stilling them gently. "I always looked up to you when I was little, Piccolo. I want you to know that I _still_ look up to you."

Unable to find the words to reply, the green man could only stare into his lover's sad, dark eyes. Eyes that mirrored his own inner turmoil.  
  
"Get some rest, all right? I'll be back tomorrow." Gohan's words came from off to the side as he stood up and scooted out of view. The barren ceiling replaced his presence with black holes and water stains in various shapes and sizes. So he closed his eyes and took comfort in the dark blankness.

Not long after closing his eyes, Piccolo had a vague, but vivid dream about that white room he'd seen before being slammed back into his body. The intersecting white lines danced sweetly across his mind, mixed with the voices of laughing children, to grant him a brief escape from the knowledge of how bad his injuries were.

All of a sudden he was jerked from his dreams by the world shifting like a capsizing boat. He could hear the sound of a crank being turned and snapped his eyes open to find the bed had been turned on its side with him still in it. His eyes lowered to a pair of nurse's sneakers, "Hey…what the?" He gasped.

"Oops!" The nurse's bubbly giggle filtered across the bed, "I'm sorry for waking you, but you have to be turned every two hours to keep your lungs from filling with fluid." The sneakers moved from the foot of the bed to the side, and he soon found himself looking into the face of a young woman who looked very similar to Mrs. Briefs. Her hair was longer and her eyes a bit more slanted, but that was the only difference. "I'm Pam! I take it you must be Piccolo…well, it's nice to meet you!"

Piccolo could tell he wasn't going to like this nurse very much, and shifted his gaze away from her while she chattered endlessly about things he could care less about. _Sheesh, and I thought Gohan was annoying as a kid. This lady is going to make me insane!_

"Well, your blood-pressure looks a little high, but that's normal when you're laying down." Pam tittered, unstrapping something from his arm.

The sound of Velcro was nails on a chalkboard to the Namekseijin's ears. He opened his eyes to glare at the annoying nurse, only to discover her standing by his bed with a bag in one hand and a plastic urinal in the other. She was emptying a yellowish fluid from the bag, and it tinkled noisily into the plastic container. It took him a moment to realize it was his own urine.

Deciding not to question it, he closed his eyes as more of her chatter washed over him, "I think I already like taking care of you. Your chart says you don't need to have bowel movements, so keeping you clean is going to be a snap!"  
  
_Great…just great…_Was all he had to say, though the words never left his mouth. _Can this get any worse?_

The rectangular fluorescent lights and porous ceiling were a blur of bright and dimmer white against his retinas. Vibrations made their way into the mattress in such a way that his teeth were rattling together, and one of the wheels were squeaking in a very annoying manner. Nasty smells from cleaned-up puke or undisposed wastes plagued his nose most of the way. Footsteps were constant like the charge of a million purebred stallions on a grassy meadow.

Piccolo sighed and continued staring up at Dr. Toriyama's flaring nostrils while he was transported to another wing of the hospital. It felt good to get out of that tiny room, but he hated being moved when unable to see where he was going. And on top of that, Gohan was late!

The motion came to an abrupt halt and the ceiling shifted to the left. He found himself being pulled rather than pushed, and the movement stopped again. Dr. Toriyama's face finally shifted towards him and a welcoming smirk appeared on his lips, "Well, this is where you'll be until you're well enough to leave. There is a window on your right and a TV in the corner above the door. A nurse will come in to check up on you every fifteen minutes, and every thirty minutes that nurse is going to give you a drink of water. It's best you drink what she offers to keep yourself healthy."

Only half-listening to what was being said, Piccolo gazed towards the ceiling. It must have been brand new, because there were no water stains. There was a fluorescent light fixture situated on the ceiling near the foot of the bed. The angle at which he saw it allowed him to use it as a mirror to see the street below through the window.

"Well, that's that. I'll be in from time to time to check up on you." Dr. Toriyama flashed a brief, empty smile before turning and heading out. His smile faded as his pager beeped, and he wound up bolting down the hall to take care of another trauma.

Piccolo resigned himself to boredly counting the holes in the ceiling until he felt a distinct presence approaching. Not long after that, footsteps came closer to his bed and Gohan's face leaned into his field of view. He couldn't even believe himself when he discovered how happy he was to see that handsome, youthful face.

Gohan was in a state of surprise himself when he saw his mentor smirk at him, and his eyes seemed strangely bright. Perhaps it was just the light from the window, or a reflection of the ceiling. "Hey, Piccolo." Then he leaned closer to the familiar green face and kissed his brow softly, "Sorry I'm late. The cab driver was new to the job and couldn't find the place."

"Why don't you just fly?"  
  
"Because I don't want to scare half the city."

"Tch." Piccolo closed his eyes and sighed at the thought of flying, only because he knew it would be a long wait before trying it out again. His moment of dark solitude was broken by the sensation of a gentle hand tracing his jawbone. He liked it, though he would never admit it. At the same time, it depressed him because he could no longer reach out to feel his lover's face with his palm, or caress his hair while he slept. He had always thought he'd be able to do that, and now it had been taken from him.  
  
"Why the frown? Is something hurting you?" Gohan's voice carried lightly over the noise out in the hall.

He sighed, "You could say that…I guess."

The young man shook his head to dismiss the cryptic reply and lifted his hand from the Namekseijin's cheek, "I heard they're going to start sitting you up in a week or so. I think it'll be nice to finally see something besides the ceiling, floor and the walls."

"I guess." Was all Piccolo had to say about that. Then he wheezed in a deep breath that proved more difficult than usual, an odd problem that was going on for the past several days. It felt as if something was lodged in his airway or pressing against it, but he couldn't tell since everything below his collarbones was completely numb. And since he figured it was part of his injury, he never mentioned it to the doctors or nurses.

Gohan frowned at the wheezing, "Are you having trouble breathing?"  
  
"A little." He admitted, wrinkling his nose in annoyance and turning his eyes to the light fixture that reflected images of outside. Talking about his injury began to make him uncomfortable and he wished his lover would change the subject.

Again, Gohan knitted his dark eyebrows together. Then he shrugged and changed the subject, "I can't wait to get you out of here and back into my bed. Sleeping without you feels…lonely…" He looked to Piccolo's eyes in attempt to see what he was feeling. "It's not the same…"

"It never will be." Piccolo whispered bitterly, closing his eyes to avoid the other man's gaze. He felt suddenly hot all over, or at least in the areas where he still had feeling, and sweat started to break out above the level of numbness. Then his head started to pound and the skin around his face and neck acquired a faint purple hue as it began to flush. A wave of nausea washed over him, making him feel as if he was swaying on an unsteady boat.

"Hey, Piccolo? Are you OK?" Gohan moved closer to the bed and touched Piccolo's slick brow. "You're covered in sweat!"

"Is everything all right in here?" The nurse known as Pam walked in for a routine check. She looked over at Piccolo and noticed something was wrong almost right away. "Let me have a look here." Her voice bore a seriousness that Gohan could not ignore. "Piccolo? Do you feel too hot? Or that you might throw up? Does your head hurt?"

"Yes to all three." Piccolo grumbled as he closed his eyes. He set his teeth in annoyance when he heard the Velcro of the blood-pressure strap being attached to his arm. The silence following the evaluation of his blood-pressure proved to be not very un-promising.

"His blood pressure is going through the roof!" Pam gasped, "How long has this been going on?"

"Just now." Piccolo replied, ignoring Gohan's worried expression.

"You're experiencing autonomic dysreflexia, Piccolo. Something below the level of your injury is irritating your nervous system in a way it can't comprehend and your body is raising its blood pressure to compensate. Now it can't turn off its blood pressure and that is resulting in your symptoms." The nurse detached the blood-pressure gauge and hung it back up on the wall. She went about checking his catheter, the IV's and the straps holding him in bed. She blinked when she prodded the vest holding the halo traction in place, "What's this?"

Piccolo moved his antennae out of the way so he could roll his eyes downwards and see if the nurse was touching him. He found her hands pressed firmly on his chest and blinked, "I don't see anything!" He growled.

"You have swelling all in your chest area." Pam's ringlet curls began to bounce as she became more alarmed by the situation. "I'm going to get the doctor. Stay with him." She added for Gohan.

"Wha-" Gohan's question was lost in the hustle and bustle that followed.

Piccolo was aware of Dr. Toriyama coming in and prodding his chest the way Pam had. Though it didn't hurt, it did increase his headache and nausea, and his vision started to blur. More things that he couldn't remember transpired, and Gohan was lost in the shuffle somewhere. 

The next thing Piccolo knew, he was in a brightly lit operating room. He could see the masked faces of surgeons and various machines all around. One of them was holding a syringe, telling him to relax and count backwards from one hundred. He barely managed to say the word 'ninety-seven' before his consciousness winked out and became a point of light in the distance.

When Piccolo struggled back to awareness, Gohan was sitting at his side, staring out the window with a _Times _magazine laying open in his lap. His hair was more of a mess than usual, a sign that he had been asleep and awakened during the course of the operation.  
  
Dr. Toriyama looked at his chart and wrote down the time of Piccolo's awakening. Piccolo looked to him slowly, his vision blurred by grogginess, and asked in a mumble, "What was the big deal?"  
  
The doctor spoke with seriousness as he put his pen back into his pocket. "Piccolo, your uterine sac was full of embryonic cysts and developing fetuses. It looks like your body went overboard at the accident and made every one of your egg-cells start to develop. I had to remove everything before it ruptured or suffocated you."

"You what!?" Piccolo stared in shock upon the realization that the most important part of his Namekian anatomy was gone, "Are they still alive?"

"No, they weren't viable." Toriyama replied solemnly, lowering his head to avoid his angry patient's harsh gaze, "I'm sorry, Piccolo. It was the only way to save your life. None of them suffered at all…if that is any consolation."

The Namekseijin stared at the doctor as if his gaze alone could burn into his head. When he spoke again, his voice was like acid, "You killed my children…" The rage increased, "Get out…get out! GET OUT!!!" The shout was strong enough to rattle the walls and caused a small pain in his neck. That pain was the only thing that kept him from shouting something vulgar.  
  
Gohan jumped up so fast the magazine went flying across the room. "C'mon." He grabbed the shocked doctor by the arm and hauled him out into the hall. Dr. Toriyama only had enough time to emit a gasp before he was nearly yanked off his feet and dragged through a door.  
  
As soon as they were gone, Piccolo closed his eyes and bit his lip fiercely as a round of bitter tears raced down his face. Tears for the children he lost, for all those tiny lives that would never have a chance to see the world. "They were my children, my creations…and he killed them…he killed them…"

Gohan crept back into the room and over to Piccolo's bed. He lowered a hand to brush the tears from his green cheek with a gentle caress, "Piccolo, I'm so sorry…I wish there was something I could do…"  
  
Piccolo bent his elbow with what little strength he still had in it and batted Gohan's hand away from his face, able to hear the impact of skin-on-skin, but unable to feel it. The lack of sensation felt exactly like the numb coldness filling his heart. "You could have stopped him, Gohan, but instead you stood there and let him get away with this…" He hissed. "How could you? Don't you realize I lost my ability to regenerate in the wreck!? I can't get that back, Gohan!" The pain grew with each word he spoke.

"Piccolo, wake up! You would have died without that operation!" Gohan cried in exasperation while rubbing his wrist where Piccolo had made contact when he slapped his hand away.

"And you call _this_ a life?"

"All life is precious, Piccolo. No matter what form it is in." He lowered his tone in hopes of enticing his mentor to do the same. His heart was squeezing in on itself like a fist tightening and relaxing around a sphere full of pain. Tears were welling in his dark eyes.

"Is that what your father was thinking when he get himself killed?"  
  
Gohan jerked his head towards the Namekseijin lying in bed, "Don't you EVER talk about my father that way, Piccolo! He gave up his life so everyone on this planet could continue to live! He gave it as a gift to all of us!"  
  
Piccolo closed his eyes and exhaled noisily, "Whatever."

"That's it," Gohan picked up the magazine he'd accidentally tossed across the room and placed it on a chair by the door. Then he grabbed his jacket and threw it around his shoulders, his eyes not moving from Piccolo. He really wanted to apologize, to do anything to keep his lover from feeling so angry at him. But he couldn't, he was too angry himself. "I'm leaving, Piccolo." With that, he turned to the door and walked out.

"Oh, sure. Just abandon me like your father did all of us!" Piccolo shouted after him. He knew it was untrue, but his anger gave him the urge to hurt people in any way possible. Since physical attacks were out of the question, he went for emotional blows, knowing this one would really draw blood.  
  
The bitter words bit into Gohan's soul like a thousand knives and shadowed him on his way out the door. They followed him into the local bar, echoing relentlessly until he broke down and started slamming drinks. Only when he had gotten so drunk he could barely walk did the painful words finally fall silent.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting propped against the outside wall in a puddle of his own vomit and urine. He could barely see straight, but managed to look up when a voice called out his name. A blurry shape with dark hair was bent over him, shaking his shoulder.

"Gohan? What happened? Are you all right?"

Gohan didn't remember what he said in reply. All he remembered was being carried into a car, then into a house. He remembered having his clothes slipped off and the relaxing warmth of lying close to another warm body in a bathtub. He also remembered feeling the intense pleasure of making love to someone, a sensation he'd missed since Piccolo's accident. He even remembered someone lying with their arms around him in bed. Then everything became a dreamless oblivion.

The morning sun jabbed his skull, forcing him to grope for the string that closed the shade. Unable to find it, he pulled the covers over his head to wall off the bright glare. "Unh…" He groaned, "Whoever made the sun that bright must think it's a funny prank to shine it on someone with a hangover…" The cloth sheets muffled his voice.  
  
A strong arm reached up from under the blankets to pull the shade down, then moved to curl around his waist. The sheets rustled as the warmth drew itself nearer to his back, and a pair of lips grazed the back of his neck. "Better?" A voice spoke from lips no further than an inch from his ear.

Gohan blinked at the familiar voice and sat up, looking down at his naked body. No, he couldn't have …could he? Yes, yes, he did. He remembered the pleasure from the night before, how wonderful it was to feel that way again. And all he could utter in regards to that evening was a single word.

"Yamcha?"


End file.
